Days of Exile
by Girl Without Umbrella
Summary: As an exile, Nuada leaves Bethmora behind, traveling to Avalbane, the white forests but something threatens to destroy it all. Nuada finds a strange woman who agrees to train him in better ways of combat while they fight off an almost unstoppable force.
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

**_A Legend Lost...._**

_After the First Wars among the races of Men, Elf and Troll alike, a city was built as a reminder of peace. The center was the largest symbol created of the ancient magiks said to keep forever rotating. It was the first Portal between the Gods and the Earth-walkers. The Leaders of the Three races gave their weapons to the symbol of Peace to stand for all of eternity. _

_Stormfury of the First Human King, _

_Zahim-luk of the first Troll King _

_and Olorréna of the Elvish Queen._

_The city slowly crumbled as the years wore on. Soon the symbol of Peace was forgotten, and the gods closed the portal for good. It's eternal rotation will remain as the earth rotates. The blades remain until the Symbol ceases motion.  
No longer did the races remember the name of the once City of Peace. The name 'Cian', meaning Ancient was its new title. The gods saw it fit that someone remained behind in the ruins to guard the blades._

_The old gods called them Guardians and they lived Semi-Immortal lives until a new one is birthed. The first Guardian was said to be the greatest Master of Combat ever to walk the earth. Through out the ages, she was the teacher of the greatest warriors ever to walk the earth. She is the Mother of the Sword, Matron of the Shield, Lady of the Blades. Some say she was trained by the Gods. Others say she trained herself. No one knew for sure._

_When the Golden Army was forged, the lost city of Cian was all but forgotten and only a whisper of a memory of those old enough to remember. Some say the woman still stands guard over the blades, waiting for a new Guardian to take her place and that the Symbol of Peace still rotates, albeit slowly. It is only for those who truly believe in the oldest of stories to ever discover if the truth behind the city of Ancient, the Symbol of Peace, and the Three blades of a Golden past._

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**Word Meanings**

**_Zahim-luk -Gougeglass_**

**_Olorréna- Dream Edge_**

**_Cian- [Pronounced KEE-AN] Ancient_**

**Second attempt at a fanfiction. This one came to me in a dream! WAS AWESOME.**

**Anyway, my last one was horribly wrong. So I want to try one where it's Nuada's training in exile, and his first Teacher.**

**Please R/R?**

**Thankyou!**


	2. Chapter One

**Hi welcome back! I know the prologue was short. It was supposed to be! My chapters will of course be much longer. I enjoy the reviews! Stay tuned!**

**- Cricket**

**Also, a big thanks to my friend Mike who helped me out with the plot and names! I OWE YOU MIKE. Varg is his character that I had in the story. The least I could do for his awesome help!**

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**Chapter One.**

**Exile**

The sounds of the Market was almost deafening. Merchants screamed at each other in different dialects, yelling at buyers to view their goods.

"_Fresh Fish! Good Fish!"_

_"Wholesome bread, fruits the like!"_

_"Silks of the finest material! Good for a nice dinner with the in-laws or a courtly outfit for your wife!"_

A figure among the colorful crows was clad in all-black. A hood, tunic, cloak, breeches and boots. The only color was the golden chord around his waist. Molten bronze eyes glared out from beneath it as the figure made its way among the venders and buyers. They soon found themself among the slavers, buying and dealing trades. The figure was male, and his skin marble-white. White hair hanging down to his jaw-line slipped from his hood. Two slavers began to shout at each other about cheatings. He turned around to the cages of slaves. Different shapes and sizes of them stood. Some in rags, other in finer clothings. The crowd around him pressed closer to the two arguing merchants, and to the platform in which slaves were being shown. He saw a human man of good size, well-muscled and strong. The auctioneer shouted his age and skills to the buyers. The elf-man sneered with disgust.

_Humans. If not slaves to greed, they are slaves to everyone else._

He stepped back against the bars of one seemingly empty cage as the crowd thickened and bids were called. He felt something tug his arm. In his own defense, the elf spun around to see the culprit for such a crime. A little girl, her cheeks smeared with dirt and stained with tear streaks looked up at him. Her dark eyes were filled with hope. For once in his life, the pale elf felt a pang of regret for this poor child. He reached his hand through the bar and wiped the bit of dirt away from her cheek with his thumb.  
"I am sorry, little one." He spoke calmly. The little girl smiled at him and patted his cheek, as if forgiving him.

Unable to stay any longer with the regret, the elf man left the poor child behind. He closed his eyes briefly, a flash of a different life forming up. A young elvish princess looking identical to him sat infront of an elegant mirror-desk. The princess stared at her reflection in disbelief for a moment.  
"Nuala," he murmured softly. How he missed his twin so. The elvish princess tilted her head, gold eyes filling with sadness.  
"I miss you aswell, my brother," she spoke to her reflection. The elf prince opened his eyes.

It was then that he remembered he was in Exile, and had to leave the familiar lands of his home. Nuada's heart longed to be back home asleep in his bedchambers. He then remembered his vow. Only to return when he people needed him most. Nuada left the market after gathering his supplies and a swift elven steed. The large dapple grey waited impatiently outside for him. Once mounted and situated he lightly tapped the stallion's sides with his heels and started off into a comfortable hand-gallop. His plan was to move westward to the white forests of Avalbane. There he would live in Exile for however long need be. The wind stripped the hood from his head, white hair billowing like a silk banner. Each long stride of the stallion took him further from his home.

Nuada's heart ached for the very first time in his young life.

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The evening sun gave off a redish-gold glow on the old white ruins of a once prosperous city. Vines and plants varying in different shades and hues of green grew over the columns and white cobblestone. Little white flowers of morning glories began to slowly curl in for the night ahead. A clear blue river ran through the city just before the main courtyard. A giant round mirror like portal rotated painfully slow. Despite the red glow of the setting sun, its color did not change. The soft and shimmery periwinkle blue contrasted greatly. A face carved into the side of the large coin-figure stared out with peaceful silver-blue carved lines. The eyes gave a sleepy expression. The same silvery-blue as the carvings that defined the face more. A portal once opened to the Gods and Humans alike. Long ago. Three pedestals stood equally apart with three different weapons on each. The first, a long silver two-handed flamberge with a blood red gem at the base. The second, a more wicked looking blade with serated dragons teeth on the other side. The hilt was made from a very rare bone. The third was pure white, almost mother-of-pearl, curved elegantly. Its hilt was ivory with ivy carved into it beautifully.

A man stood on the other side of the river, opposite to the main courtyard. He was tall and well muscled, his appearance screaming a true warrior. His long brown hair was braided, each braid tied with leather. Clear blue eyes surveyed his surroundings. In the sun, his dark skin looked bronze. His celtic warpaint seemed to glow and his armor of leather gleamed. On his back a long cloak of black feathers shined like amethysts in the slowly setting sun. A raven perched on his right shoulder. A strong stubble grew over his cheek bones and chin.

"Cheris!" His voice bellowed out clear as a bell despite his rough appearance.

"I am here, Varg, What is it you wish?" A calming female voice assured the male known as Varg. Stepping from the courtyard's walls to the edge of the small river was a woman, a half foot smaller than him, give or take few inches. Her form was not lithe nor overmuscled. An average form, with long dark brown curls of hair reaching her waist. Dark than her male companion's by man shades. She regarded him with honey-hazel eyes that were both young and wise at the same time. Her face seemed almost ageless, neither young nor old. Her clothes were simple. A dark blue tunic and baggy breeches. She wore no shoes.

"Just for company and someone to talk with. I have been lonely since Scathach died."  
"You are welcome here, friend." She beckoned him across the river to join her in the court yard of Peace. There they both surveyed the three weapons.  
"Still here after all this time." Varg said softly.

The woman nodded and followed the slow rotation of the portal. Its calming face followed her as she stepped.  
"Tell me. Has the Golden Army fallen?"  
Varg scratched his head and looked at her.  
"More or less. They lie Dormant under the earth."  
"So King Balor saw sense in his mistake." Cheris said thoughtfully.

Varg shrugged and followed her in an opposite direction.  
"The slower the symbol becomes, the closer another great war will come. And the sooner I will die. It is creeping along slowly..." Cheris's voice was lowered to a painfully soft tone. Varg frowned, stroking his raven companion, Mimir.  
"How fairs your city of Skye?"

Varg shrugged again,"It is well enough. Quiet then again. The Morrigan herself has come to visit me now and then."  
Cheris smiled and stepped out of line, standing by the back fountain that no longer flowed with water.  
"Of course. You are her champion... You must tell her I miss her very much so."  
"It is noted... The sun sets. I make my leave. I will return to keep you company, Cheris."

The woman simply nodded as the man faded into the shadows of the set sun.

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For two full weeks Nuada road at a steady pace without stopping. Both mount and rider could go on for a few more days without rest or food. Nuada felt it would be cruel to work his mount harder. He dismounted by a small stream and both of them drank heartily. The elven Prince stretched for about an hour or so. By then the crescent moon shown through the sky. Three more days until the full moon. By then, the forest Avalbane would shine brighter and be easier to spot when he arrived. He unsaddled the stallion and made sure he had a good rub-down before letting him graze. The elf prince sighed and sat down in the very soft grass. He could have slept their for days. Instead he lay there, arms under his head, looking at the sky. Stars glittered across the sky. Closing his eyes only for a brief moment, Nuada thought back of his home-No- it would only bring more heart ache.

When he heard a slump, he sat up only to see his mount lying in the grass next to him. Nuada laughed softly and stroked the soft mane,"Good horse." The stallion snorted once at him before resting his head down like a dog. Nuada did not sleep at all that night. By the time he saw the sky fade from dark blue to purple to yellow-orange, he had already saddled and left to start off again to Avalbane. He passed through half the day going over hills and the moors. Then the next part they traveled through the murky Emeral Marshes near the ancient Troll-king cities. Woodlands faded into meadows. He could see the white caps of mountains in the near distances. Meadows soon reverted back to forests. The elven prince never grew tired of the landscapes. The lush greens and exotic flowers were refreshing from the constant golds and reds of his own homeland.

For two more days he rode on. The third night the sky threatened a storm and he took the shelter of a nearby cave, once inhabited by bears or so he thought. The rain did not last for more than three hours. As soon as he saw the moon shine through the violet clouds. As he slowed the horse into a steady canter across an open field, Nuada briefly glanced up. The moon's glow was veiled behind a thin wall of clouds... A gale sifted through the tall grasses, scattering wet dew and water from the previous rain everywhere. The clouds shifted and the full moon's glow danced across the field. The beads of water flickered and looked as though small diamonds and crystals were scattered throughout the plane. Everything lit up with a soft white glow. The Prince then looked to the source of the glow, halting his mount to a dead stop. The forest lay before him, the trees taller than any he had seen before. They resembled the Moon herself, white and glowing in an ethereal beauty.

_Oh my sister if only you could see this... _Nuada suddenly felt his sister's presence in his mind.  
_I can, Nuada. It is beautiful..._

With a small smile, Nuada continued on at a gentle walk. He entered the glowing forests and finally understood how it recieved its name.

_Avalbane... The white orchards._ A leaf made of pure silver fell from over head, caressing against his cheek before falling completely to the ground. So much beauty untouched by the taint of human hands... Nuada felt a refreshing wave come over him. Everything was calm in the forest, almost eerily calm. Nuada wondered if the animals could sleep in the brilliant lights glowing around them, or if they ventured elsewhere or if there were any signs of life at all. Another leaf fell. The prince felt his hackles rise. His mount felt his master's sudden unease and he too was stepping lightly and alert.

As they pressed on the trees began to lose their luster. Leaves began to drop faster, and soon Nuada saw that the part of the forest he was in was completely blackened. A stench intruded his nostrils and he coughed with surprise. His horse began to get even more nervous beneath him. He spoke soothing words to the stallion, stroking his neck and whithers constantly. Something was wrong. It practically screamed out at him to turn away, run, leave.

He continued on, unable to look away from the dead trees. _This is wrong. The trees were said to be ever-lasting. Why now are they dying?_

The stench continued to grow. To prevent himself from wretching, Nuada covered his sensitive nose with a piece of cloth. His mount stopped.  
Out of the brush flew a foreign figure. Nuada had heard tales of the drow elves. Their skin would be black as ebony, and hair ranging from black all the way to the palest whites. He thought them to be strong, graceful and excellent fighters with beautiful physique. These drow were different in everyway possible. Their ebony skin was covered with boils, sores and rashes oozing and leaking with putrid liquids and puss. Nuada once more felt his stomach clench up at the very sight of the hideous things. The drow from the brush had a weapon which sliced through the fabric of Nuada's clothing down to the flesh. It left a diagonal cut across his chest. At first the wound stung like any other one would. His golden blood soon turned to horrible green and began to bubble. It burned.

To defend himself, Nuada pulled out his own weapon, now becoming a warrior. His mount reared up and cried in challenge to the attackers. Another drow, like the first, was covered with boils and blemishes. Nuada and stallion fought them as more and more came out. Another slash hit him in the side. The same blood turned green and boiled and burned. He had to get away from them or he would surely be done for. He strength was slowly diminishing as he kicked the horse in the sides to send him off into a safer direction. The Drows persued him. The Prince's vision was darkening and the pain was taking over, like an intense wild fire over every nerve of his very being.

He did not know how long his stallion had raced. The dead stop sent him tumbling off and into a soft patch of grass by a stone wall. Through blurred vision someone stood over him.  
"Please," he uttered softly,"Help..."

His world then went black.

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**End Chapter One.**


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2**

**Hey everyone, just a few things to make known:**

**Nuada and Nuala are not my characters. They belong to Mike Mignola and Guierrmo del Toro. **

**Varg belongs to my amazingly awesome-smart friend Mike.**

**Drows Belong to the Forgotten Realms And Mr. Salvador. :D**

**All the other characters and places are purely of my own mind's creation!**

**Thankyou very much, please R/R!**

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The full moon was high in the sky like an over ripe fruit ready for harvest. Its gentle light glimmered down on the ruins, casting a comforting white glow on the sun-bleached stones. Crickets chirped quietly and doleful night-creatures graze in silence on the grass peaking through the cobblestones. One looked up, a small deer, watching the strange female dancing around with a silver branch in her hands. The strange creature kept dancing, whipping around her long brown mane and moving as though she and the branch were one like a tree in the Glowing Forest. The shiny branch sparked as it hit a tall rock tree-stump. The deer shyed away from the sparks and ran back towards the brush growing around a tall stone wall. Another creatures began to watch now, entranced by the way the female-creature moved around.

A pare of big feet frightened them away. Varg had arrived just only now, to find his friend practicing to perfection. Cheris moved with excellent precision not once out of lines. Each movement was graceful as it was deadly. She twirled the spear, then flipped, slashing through the air. She landed on the opposite side of the small river-bank. As Varg watched, he too could not help feel a sense of amazement at his old companion-friend.

"Cheris, may I join you?" He calls to her with a heart smile.  
She doesn't react to the yelling but side-spins in the air over his head, grazing her spear against his cheek most likely cutting a bit of the stubble off. She tapped his shoulder with the spear-head and smiled,"Be my guest."  
Varg grins, casting his cloak off, revealing a black set of reinforced leather armor. Brandishing his spear, he uses it like a quarterstaff to meet Cheris' own. A sort of invitation to a spar.

"Now I have to shave."

She grins and retreats her spear, before spinning quickly and swinging it at him. Her clothing was light and comfortable to allow more movement. She never wore armor. She never needed it. The way she moved was almost insane with her reflexes. Varg raises his weapon to defend, before attempting to push her back.

"The Pantheon favors you... but War favors me. Let's see if it's another victory for you."  
"Pantheon may favor me," She said before pushing him back full force, sliding her spear so their weapons are perpendicular. She pushes down and flips over his head, landing like a cat and lithe on her feet. She swoops the spear against his ankles to sweep him off his own feet.

"But they will never have me."

Varg had followed Cheris as best he can, and is knocked off-kilter, before regaining his balance and attempting to hit Cheris at least once with a volley of lightning-quick jabs. "Is that so?"  
She laughs, parrying or blocking each of his volleys. Her hair spins around with her movements, never to be pulled back. Ever.  
"Indeed," Her movements start faster as she leaps and twists in the air to bring the spear down on his shoulder.  
The other warrior is simply slow... but his armor was made to deflect sharp objects, giving in with the blow. Not to be outdone (at least not voluntarily), he takes a hand off his spear and tries to grab and throw her to the ground. She twists to remove herself from his grip and kicks him square in the chest. She reaches for his spear which is now held with one hand and wrenches it right out of his hands. Varg lets go of Cheris, winded, and his spear is lost. Without a weapon, he takes an unarmed stance.

She carefully tosses both spears asside, taking her own un-armed stance. It is his turn too attack first. She walks in a slow ready pace around him, waiting like a predator stalkin prey. Varg follows, before rushing quickly, as a child of Morrigan normally would, in an attempt to slam into her with all his body weight. Cheris spins quickly, running to the near by crumbling column, scaling up it and kicking off it and landing near his side, swinging her leg to aim for his neck and collar bone. He puts up his hands to grab Cheris' foot, and slingshot her to the ground. Though his strength was immense, she managed to jump her other leg up in another attempt to knock him in the face with a second wave of attack. His throw is faltered some by his head snapping back and she takes this as and advantage to knock him to the ground, pinning him there. Varg tries to evade, but recovers too slowly... so he tries to grapple Cheris into submission. She fights him harder this time, forcing him to submit down on the broken white cobblestones.

"Yield?"  
"As Khaine scourged Isha, you have scourged me. She will cry no tears for me... I yield."

A smile one would give an old friend, Cheris gets up and holds her hand out to him to take.  
"You still fight well."  
Varg takes her hand, pulling himself up.  
"You fight as well as you always have... makes the Carrion-Mother blush."  
"Ah, a woman who would like quite fine with color in cheeks." Cheris muses, taking her spear which has retracted easily on the ground. She tosses his own spear back to him.  
Varg catches it, leaning on it with a grin on his scarred face.  
"Indeed. Is that a new one?"  
"What? My spear?"

Varg nods once.

"No. I have had this one for a long long time. The name is 'Eternal' or as I like to call it Amaranth. You recall my spear from long ago? This is the same one."

"Ah, yes... I remember." Varg looks to his own aged, and battered spear.  
"She has almost as many scars as I do. But I don't know why I don't fill them in..."

"Perhaps she wishes to remain like her master."  
Varg gets a ponderous look before smiling gently.  
"Perhaps. Gae Bolg is... a reflection of me."

"As most weapons are of their masters."  
Cheris motions to the three pedestals holding the first three weapons.

Varg eyes the weapons, the greed missing from his eyes. "Ah yes. Olorrena, Zahim-luk, and Stormfury... But I had an idea, while in Skye's antechambers."  
"Oh?"  
"Defensive Legions, blessed by whichever god would take them... not to be used in aggressive war, unless the aggression is in pure defense. And all races could represent in their own Legion... but that's an insane idea of mine, while wandering about in the dark."  
"Drunk as usual?"  
"But I had actually drunk less than usual."  
"That's new."

Varg chuckles. "I know, right?"  
She smiles and steps down into the clear blue river water. A small water nymph pops its little blue head from the water. It splashes at the guardian. She good-naturedly splashes back before it disappears.  
Varg crouches down at the banks of the river, not willing to step in.  
"They won't harm you here. They're just nymphs, Varg."  
"It's not the nymphs. I just don't want to dirty this water. Besides, leather gets tight in water."

She shakes her head and walks to the other side, her clothing some how still dry. She looks over her shoulder and smiles thoughtfully.  
"How is the Morrigan? Only you have been my visitor here recently."

Varg scratches his stubble before speaking, "She's becoming bored, although her hungers have been sated so far... after the war of the Golden Army, anyway. All in all? She's well."

"I miss her very much. Would you tell her next time you see her?"  
"I will tell her, next time I consort with her." Varg nods once, pulling a braid back from his eyes.

"Thankyou, Varg. If you'll excuse me, I have to do my round around the courtyards." He follows her gaze.

"I assume you don't want another pair of eyes?"  
"No, it is my job, not yours."  
"I am offering to help, of my own volition. If you don't want my help, I can wait patiently... Skye is silent."  
"That's also new. You should rest. I will return in a little while."  
Varg nods, laying back against a fallen stone, his heavy lids closing shut. It seemed like five minutes to him from the way Cheris jostled him awake.

"Varg you oaf, wake up already!" Cheris shouts as she splashes his face with the water from the river.

Varg sits up quickly and glares at her, wiping the water from his face and eyes. "What? Who's dying?"

"He is!" Cheris shouted, pointing to a figure lying on the ground across the river. Varg studied the pale figure of an elf. He had two deep wounds on his torso. He gets to his feet, getting a running start before trying to leap over the river to the grey form. His nose was hit by a wave of putrid air  
"AUGH! What's that smell?"

Cheris pointed to the festering cuts on the white elf's chest and side before explaining to the scarred warrior,  
"It isn't just poison. It's diseased. I need help quick. Stay here with him try to get him to drink some water."

Varg nods, sniffing at the wounds before going to the river, collecting water to wash the wounds out.  
"The Goddess Isha... cry tears for your child." He studied the wounds carefully now, seeing that his blood was oozing green and disgusting puss. The smell was rancid, and the only thing that could have smelled equally to that was Varg's own leather after months of war.

Cheris returns with a basket of fine needles, some hooked. She also carried many herbs for cleansing and healing. She frowned at Varg's attempt to clean the elf's wounds with water.  
"Stop that, you're spreading the watered-down pus on the ground and earth." She takes out a white cloth, wet with a salve. She removes the elf's shirt and begins to clean out the wounds, ignoring the groans from him.  
"Give him the numroot and mint. Force it into his mouth if need be."

Varg goes to get more water, and pours it into the elf's mouth, before grabbing the herbs Cheris prescribed. The elf's eyes finally open. Molten gold-turned-milky-yellow eyes sees them both and panicks. Cheris places a finger to her lips and another hand on his head.  
"Hush now. Close your eyes," Cheris demands. The elf slumps back, his eyes fluttering before he falls unconcious once more. Cheris studies the wounds again, worry lining her ageless face.  
"This isn't like anything I've seen. Varg, I need you to find out what has caused this."

She wipes away some of the puss with a cleaner cloth and wraps it up.  
"Whoever did this is a child of some decay-god..."  
"No. I don't. It couldn't be a god of decay. They know of balance. It isn't a natural disease..."  
Varg whistles, calling a raven to his shoulder. "Go, sister... find me a source of the most pungent and rotten carrion around. Come back to me when you do, and guide me to it."  
Cawing, the raven flaps off. Cheris watched the raven for a brief moment before returning her attention to the warrior.  
"Varg, I need you also to go and find a source. Ask a goddess or god. The portal will open for you.."

"Yes, Riss." With that, he gets up, and begins padding off to the portal room.

Cheris ignores the term of endermeant. The guest as she saw was an elf, pale skin even paler. She carefully scooped him up with her own stenght and heaves him to a back part of the city yard, still covered partially by a roof with a shrub of very soft mosses and shrubs Cheris used even for her own bedding sometimes, though the guardian hardly slept at all. From there she began to clean and sew up his wounds. Cheris begins to ponder and wander, occasionally checking in on her patient, and speaking with the smaller spirits and sprites who came to see who her newest visitor was.

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Varg steps into the rotating portal, onto the Astral Plane, to begin his search for vital knowledge. He steps into a large garden.... a putrid collection of flesh, before walking up to a large cauldron, with a bloated, green god behind it.  
"Nergal! I would ask to have words with you."

The mass behind the cauldron looked up. Two sickly greenish-yellow eyes pop up and a deep rumbling chuckle and bubbling liquid sounded from the creatures mouth

"Varg m'boy. What words do you need?"  
"There's been an attack on an elf. His wounds are deeply infected like nothing I have ever seen before."

The bubbling stops, a form of his good natured chuckling. Nergal looks serious, a slimy dark green tentacle darting out under his eyes.  
"If their is a disease being spread I would know. And why would an Elf be a single target? Was he of any importance?"

"He looks of regal bearing... but there was pus in a fresh wound. That's definitely not right."  
"The weapon could have been poisoned. Regal eh? Could have been Balor's boy..."  
"Might have been. However, I worry... if word of this gets out, so near to Cian... Balor could be angered to a fighting rage."  
"Balor does not even remember Cian from the story books his own father read to him. Avalbane separates his land from the old lands. His son went into Exile, did he not?"  
"As far as I know."

Nergal stood at full height now, his lower half supported by black oozing tentacles. The smell he gave of was quite digusting as he paced around the cauldron.  
"I will see what I can do, my boy... Isha, the Elf goddess, might be able to stop his infection from worsening. Go quickly."

Varg nodded and bowed,"Thankyou, Grandfather Nergal." The mass chuckled again as Varg took his leave. He followed a long path which soon faded from decay and diseased carrion to lush greenery and blooming flowers. He walks further and sees the Elven goddess tending to her beautiful living Garden. Her beauty could match that of Aphrodite's. Long golden hair and pale skin. Her eyes were almond-shaped and dark ocean blue, which accented her sweet round face. Pale pink lips pursed as her eyes went to her visitor. The goddess's peaceful expression turned to mild anger as she gazed down upon the warrior-man.  
"You better have a good reason for this, Champion of Sister Morrigan."  
There was no hiding the displeasure in her soft voice. Isha, the elvish goddess of healing and fertility held disagreement with the Morrigan, who was a goddess of war and violence.

"Isha... I have a dire favor to beg of you, and give you news of those who would plague Avalbane." Varg folds to one knee respectfully and bows his head to her. She almost sneers as she speaks,  
"Oh? I owe no favors to those who follow Morrigan."

"You owe favors to an ailing child. Prince Nuada has been stricken with a plague through an infected blade."  
"And whoever plagued Nuada is most likely trying to harm Avalbane. Will you sit and do nothing about this?"

Isha's gaze sharpens. "Avalbane is an immortal forest, unable to be plagued..." she looks to a white lily. "Nuada of the Bethmora clan? What has happened to him?"

"He is ill, and his wounds fester with unnatural gangrene, forced upon him by an unknown force." Varg looks up as she is silent. He sees a single tear roll down her round cheek.  
"Take me to him." Varg nods as he stands, leading Isha back to the portal. The male warrior looks to the taller goddess and sighs before speaking to her softly,  
"Isha... I am unsettled by this, and you know Morrigan's warriors are resolute in all things. Nergal knows nothing of this new disease."  
A trail I green grass and flowers sprout in her wake. Tilting her head to the side, she asks,"Nergal has not caused this? Then what has I must wonder."  
Varg grumbles and growls, feeling as though she is mocking him.

As they enter the city, a small frown tugs at the corners of Isha's pale pink lips. She gazes at the crumbling ruins with saddened blue eyes.  
"I remember this city," she whispers softly. Varg nods again. All gods and goddesses have walked the streets of Cian at one point in their eternal lives. He sees Cheris bowed over the pale elf-man. A twinge of jealousy tugs at the heart of the Champion. Isha how ever, does not see this, but instead rushes to the side of Nuada. Cheris looks up startled and then bows with respect to he goddess. Isha studies the wounds horrified and begins her work.  
"This is unlike anything I have ever seen..." she murmurs softly. The wounds heal to scars, but the infection still flows through him.  
"Ive done what I can," she says calmly."He will live but he must rest..."  
Cheris nods to the goddess,"Thankyou my lady... Thankyou." Isha kisses Nuadas forhead and then embraces Cheris.  
"It is good to see you once more, Cherished One... I must speak to Aval of this crime, and will return as soon as I can with an answer."

It is Varg's turn to speak up.  
"Thank you, Lady Isha... I will consult with Morrigan, should there be signals of war about. I may be of Skye, but I cannot let my dearest friend's home be defiled." Varg says

The goddess once more nods, then glances around before fading into the greenery, leaning a trail of white morning glories in her wake.  
"Fare well, Lady Isha." Cheris murmurs softly.

After the Goddess takes her leave, Varg steps up to Nuada, inspecting the young elf with sharp eyes.  
"You have plans for this one?"  
Cheris lightly touches Nuadas cheek and shrugs.  
"He is promising. I want him to heal... And then learn of his attackers."

Varg nods. "Indeed... perhaps we can train him together?"  
She shakes her head quickly.  
"I am not so sure of teaching him. I sense regret in doing so. You have your own people to train..."

"I do... but my people are many. One more will not hurt."

"No," Cheris speaks firmly which is startling. "If you were to teach him then I sense the major destruction he would cause. If I will teach him it will be for the benefit of us all... I hope. I will not allow you to teach him, Varg. You must understand."

"I understand, de- Cheris." He catches himself quickly.

Cheris blinks at his sudden save unsure of what it was all about. She puts it aside and stands.  
"He needs more water..." The woman quickly leaves to the river and collects water for Nuada. A nymph at the bank watches her, then beckons to a nearby dryad riding a large buck to follow as Cheris returns to the pale elven prince. Nuada shifts in his painful sleep, breaking out into a sweat. She cools him down by dabbing his body and face with a wet cloth. She continues for a few moments  
"Varg, I am scared..." Her voice was shaking, and it seemed to startle even Varg by how it was spoken. He goes still, just gawking at her. Cheris was never afraid.  
She looks to Varg,"There is something terrible rising... I feel it.."  
He only nods, looking a bit too pale. His face has literally almost no color in it.

"Varg... Go back to Skye and warn your people of what is coming... Please." There is a sound of deep urgency in her voice.

Getting to his feet, Varg walks off a few feet before vanishing completely. A lone feather floats to the ground.

Cheris looks back to the sleeping prince, occasionally dabbing he body to help with his fever. Her voice is strained and her eyes are watering. How long had it been since she had felt fear numbing her heart and twisting her insides? Too long and too soon to feel it once again. Gazing to the sky, the moon reflecting in her eyes, Cheris whispers three soft words to the air.

"Grandmother... Help us..."

**End Chapter Two.**


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter 3**

**Hey-o!**

**Let me know how you all like this story so far, kay? I love getting reviews!**

**Also- Most of this content is from RP segments with my friend Mike. HE'S THE CO-WRITER. YEAH.**

**WARNING. SEXUAL CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER.**

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It took the Goddess two full days to find the Ancient Forest God. Creatures around her followed and tried their best to show her the way through the white forests. An owl swooped over her head, hooting quietly to her. Isha held out a delicate arm to the night-flyer and he landed gingerly on the goddess's arm. She stroked his feathers and spoke softly to him.  
"Come Brother... Where is the Lord of the forest?" The Owl once more hooted before flying away. Isha followed him quickly.

When the owl finally swooped down and landed on the branch of a small ivory-colored sappling, they were at a clear pool of water in a smaller clearing. At the pool, a tall man stood, arms outstretched and stroking a young buck. The man looked to be fifty-something in human years. Pearly white hair rested on his shoulders light and feathery. Clear green eyes held wisdom and kindness. A fierce-gentle nature surrounded the old god like a thin mist, subtle and soft. He wore white robes in a Grecian style with bare feet. Isha stopped and stared in wonder at the Father-god and smiled lightly as the God kissed the buck on the nose. Green eyes then landed on Isha.  
"My goodness, Isha dear, is that you?"

The Goddess walked slowly around the pool, only to be embraced into a tight bear-hug from Aval. His hearty chuckle brought more creatures around him.  
"Yes Grandfather Aval, It is I..." Isha rubbed her arms like a little girl. A small frown tugged at Aval's lips.

"Grandfather? Come now Isha, that makes me sound so... Old!" Both old-god and Goddess laughed for a moment. Isha noticed there were slight bags under Aval's jovial eyes.  
"Aval, you look--"

"--Awful, I know. They're killing my forest. My beautiful children..." The god's eyes fade from a bright green to a darker greyish brown. He places a hand on the white bark of a nearby tree, it seems to lift a little more at the touch of its Father's gentle hand.  
"That's why I've come. Whatever they are, they have attacked a child of mine aswell. Nuada, from the Bethmora clan... I have tried my best to heal him... It was almost too powerful an infection to cure."

Aval's face becomes grim now. "The Bethmorans have forgotten us," he was of course, referring to the forest and himself. Isha felt his pain and her dark blue eyes welled up and wet.  
"What can we do to help?" She whispered softly to him. Aval turned to the younger goddess and hugged her.  
"What can we do?" Aval repeated softly. His eyes slowly changed again to a darker emerald green. He smiled, but barely,"Come, let me show you what they have done...."

Aval lead the elf-goddess to a smaller grove. It was completely black. The trees were dead and the leaves, once silver and filled with luster lay dead on the growned like they had been burned to black crisps. Isha shivered at the silence of death hanging there like a wet blanket. Heavy, stifling and chilling.  
"... By the Peace..." She whispered almost breathlessly. She looked to Aval who seemed weaker in this part of the forest.  
"They have been hitting smaller spots all over the forest. Like a needle point into different spots of the heart. I fear the worst for Avalbane." The white God turned away from the dead and back to the small pool. He knelt down at its edge, dipping a finger into the clear blue liquid. An inky murk soon filled the center of the pool, then it began to swirl. Isha saw a young elven princess bed-ridden. Isha knew the child as Nuala, Nuada's twin sister.

Nuala was in the same condition as her brother, pale, ashen. Her golden complexion was a horrible grey. A nursemaid sat by her bed, making sure her condition was stable.  
"Nuada and Nuala share a bond," Aval broke the Elf goddess from her reverie. "It was a good thing you had healed him in time. She would have perished along with her brother. There would be no other heir to the Bethmora clan." Aval spoke calmly, the image swirling again. The whole pool went black. "The ones who have attacked my forest are called Maggotkin. They are exiled Drow bent on spreading death, infection and disease where they go... I fear that they will kill everything in their path unless stopped."

"How can we stop them? The disease they carry destroys all life..." Isha placed a hand on Aval's back.  
"I know, Isha, I know...." Aval stood up, letting the pool work on its own. The image blurred and a tall dark elf male stood. His long hair was black, matching his ebony skin perfectly, save for the putrid green boils and blemishes growing all over his body. Sickly greenish-red eyes stared back at the two Dieties and smirked evily. The image faded, but the black remained. Aval shook his head gravely.  
"There is still hope, Aval," Isha assured him, unsure if it was the truth or just a mask to help ease the pain in the old god's heart.

"Yes... We can only hope..."

---------------------------------------------------------------

A week had passed since Nuada was attacked. Each day he felt himself getting stronger. There was a woman he saw from time to time, bringing him water and small bits of food. He tried asking her where he was and she only shushed him.  
"You need your rest," she would say, then she'd leave for a while, and come back to see how he was fairing. When he was strong enough to walk, he begant to wander the old ruins, leaning on a make-shift crutch. As he knelt by the river, the same little water nymph popped up with big aqua-green eyes.

He reached out with a soft laugh and took a thick dark blue braid and tugged it gently. The little fish-creature squeaked and splashed him before ducking under the water. When he looked up, the woman was standing there across the river watching him with a cool expression.  
"She does not like having her braids tugged on, even if it is play." The woman warned. Nuada smiled at her slightly.  
"Did you heal me?" He asked and tried to stand.

The woman shook her head,"You should thank your Goddess. I am simply watching over you as you heal. It is good to see you moving about." She offered him a half smile.  
Nuada stood and tried to cross the river carefully,"Where am I?" He asked, gripping the edge of the bank and pulling himself up. She towered over him where he sat.  
"No one remembers the original name for this city. It is simply called 'Cian'. Ruins of a once prosperous, ancient civilization. It was built on Peace." She offered a hand to help him up. Gratefully, Nuada took it. He stood over her by about five inches or so.  
"A time of Peace? How long ago?"

"When the first war was ended. The first human king, troll king, and elf queen all made a pact here in the city..." She explained and began to lead him to the main courtyard with the three weapons and the rotating portal. Nuada's breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the portal. Then to the elven blade.  
"Queen Andual'Ora's blade..." He murmured with wonder. He reached out to touch the curved blade when a silver spear extended across his chest.

"Look with your eyes," the woman said, retracting the spear," Not your hands." Instinctively, Nuada stepped back away from the pedestal. He looked at the spear, or sword, she head in her hand. It had retracted so easily.. Where did the staff go?

"Who are you?" He looked to the woman who was now watching the rotation of the large portal. She did not look back at him, but answered quickly. "The guardian of the three blades and the Symbol Of Peace."

Nuada frowned, not the answer he wanted. "I meant your name,"  
"I have many names. The one I go by now is Cheris."  
The elf prince nodded slowly, watching the rotation as she did.

They did not speak after that. Nuada went back to his small bed to rest. He body ached all over and his fever had broken. The little Nymph appeared later that night, splashing water on his face and tugged his hair. He laughed,"I am sorry, my friend," he said to her,"I did not know." The nymph chirrupped and ran back to the river on her short little legs. Nuada watched her go in slight confusion. She returned and handed him a shell, chirruping softly. He takes it gingerly in his pale fingers,"Thankyou." He smiled kindly at the nymph, who chirrupped louder and ran away again. Nuada chuckled softly at the small creature's behavior before closing his eyes and drifting off to a light slumber.

Not long after Nuada awoke to the sound of a soft scuffling. He opened his eyes to see the woman Cheris standing by him with a silver spear at the ready. She moved silently like a stalking cat waiting for a mouse to appear from its hole. It was obvious to him that she never slept. He recalled earlier that when he gripped her arm and pulled himself from the river that he could not read her at all. This woman--this creature-- was a mystery to him. She lifted an index finger to her lips.  
"Stay put," she commanded firmly.

The woman moved toward the source of the rustling. The bushes, large and over grown moved with the slightest movement. With one fluid movement Cheris reached in and yanked whatever it was right out and threw it to the ground before her feet. The figure, from where Nuada sat, had long bright red hair and sleek ebon skin. Unlike his attackers, however, this one was not tainted by the sickness. It was female from what he could see. SHe sat up and groaned, rubbing her face which was covered by her red hair. He could see the finely pointed ears decked with golden piercings.  
"Nnnngh..." She groaned and flipped over as Cheris put her at spear-point.

"Who are you?" Cheris demanded. The sharp spear was at the female's throat. A drow female at that. Nuada moved feebly to a sitting position, watching curiously.  
"Chath'Anon, Exile." The drow said boredly, as if she had said that line over and over again. The drow scooted away from the blade,"Mind getting that off my neck?"

Cheris retracted the spear and the drow female moved to her feet. Her hair spilled like blood over her back to her hips. Just as the drow female was about to speak, there was a shimmering haze appearing behind Cheris. Through the haze walked Varg and his Raven, Mimir. Another sat on his other shoulder. Her talons were covered with a nasty ooze. Cheris frowns at the abrupt entry. The tall warrior quirks a brow at the drow female.  
"More company?"

Cheris glances back at the red-headed drow female. SHe regards Varg with bright orange eyes and a vixen-esque smile. The only cover the female drow had was a white cloth wrap around her chest and a strip of cloth down the front of her waist and back, revealing her long supple legs. In other words, the drow was extremely beautiful. Varg did not return her sly smile, but looked to Cheris in a sort of 'help' look.  
"You found the raven-sister?"

He nodded, and reverted his language to an old Gaelic infront of the clueless female drow.  
"I have reason to distrust the Drow." Varg explained. Cheris caught on and also changed her language.  
"What did she tell you?" Cheris asked, reaching for the female raven and cleaning off her claws with a bit of cloth from her own pockets. The raven cooed softly and rested her small head on Cheris's collar bone.  
Varg shook his head, eyeing the female drow behind Cheris with a hint of lust and distrust.  
"They are infecting Avalbane, and they themselves are infected and diseased, yet they do not die, carrying only the marks of the sickness."

Cheris looked at him gravely, stroking the she-raven lightly, speaking to her as she listened. She shook her head,"And you think the drow elf behind me is a spy?"  
"She might very well be."

"She does not carry or look to be infected by the diseases." Cheris argued. Varg sighed.  
"Did you bother to look under the cloth she wears?"

A snort rises from Cheris in a form of a laugh. "No, but I am sure you would very much like to."

Varg stares at his friend in silent disbelief. Chath wanders off to the river, not even bothering to look in Nuada's direction. There was no hiding the bulge in his rough trousers as he watched her go. The man shuddered and shook his head,"Fine, I'll do it." He did not see Cheris's almost-sly-smirk as he followed the coal-skinned female.

He found her by the river, idly braiding a red lock of hair. Her sharp orange eyes look up and she smiles at the male when he sits beside her. She slips her elegant hand and squeezes the inside of his thigh. Varg grunts softly, fighting the urge to take her then and there.  
"Mm, what sort of name do you have, Warrior?" Chath purrs softly.  
"V-Varg." He chokes out, lust-filled eyes looking at her slender legs.

Chath grins, slipping her hand a little further up his thigh towards his groin. Varg twitches once.  
"Has the Wolf come to play?" She leans closer to his face, letting her tongue flick out against his ear. It was too much for Varg.  
"Yes," he finally said, slinking a well-muscled arm around her waist,"The wolf wants to play with the delectable fire-flower he has found in the darkest places known."

This sent a shiver of pleasure down the drow's back and she groaned softly, her hand gliding over his crutch and under his thick leather armor guarding his chest.  
"If it is so dark," she retorts playfully,"Then you will not be able to see me..."

Varg gets up, sweeping her into his arms already fiddling with the strap around her waist.  
"I'll just use my other senses to find you."

As he said, Varg took the drow female off into the darkest spot of the ruins, her screams of pleasure and ecstasy and his groans and grunts were almost muffled by the black pitch they hid in.

**Two Hours Later...**

Varg slowly opened his eyes and sat up after his nap. He looked over to the sleeping form beside him, nestled in her read hair and thick green leaves of grass beneath them. Those blood-red locks barely hid her smooth skin and plump breasts. Varg smirked and slid a hand over her flat stomach and up between the well of her bosom, then over a single breast and squeezing softly. This subtle movement made Chath stir. she opened her sleepy orange eyes and smirked as she sat up.  
"Looking for something?"

Varg smiled and leaned over her, pinning her wrists down and kissing her firmly,"Yes, but not what I was looking for." He stifled a groan as he felt her naked leg slide along his.  
"Mmm, I am not an infected one... You would have been dead already if it were so," Chath said and forced him off of her body. Varg stared at her dumbfounded as she began to dress.  
"How--"  
"--You aren't the only one who knows the old Languages." She winked at him as he hastily pulled on his trousers and armor.

"Next time, just ask..." A giggle and she was off back towards the slender river, leaving Varg standing there with a slack-jaw expression.

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By the time Varg returned to Cheris, she was kneeling over the now-sleeping prince. Beads of sweat formed on his face and body, and the woman was dabbing a wet cloth over his forhead.  
"Another fever," she said without looking behind her.  
Varg nods,"Isha said he'll live."

Cheris shook her head grimly,"I have not seen Isha in a week, Varg. I worry that she could have been attacked herself. Will you take over?" Cheris asked, gesturing to Nuada and the cloth. The warrior-man nodded and took up Cheris's position as the guardian took her own spear and walked away from them both.

It was in the farther part of the ruins where the black smiths and other metallic workers had their shops. A blur of black and blue flashed in the corner of Cheris's eyes. On reflex, the spear shot out, close-lining whatever it was that was trying to escape. A satisfying thud and a grunt from the intruder made Cheris smile.  
Another drow elf, this time a scrawny male with red eyes and blue hair lay beneath the spear-point.

"Who are you?"

"Inthuul'Falanni!" The poor drow cried.  
"Why are you here?"  
"I was with my friend. Chath'Anon, to investigate the Maggotkin..."

Cheris stepped away from him, lifting the spear to let him sit up.  
"And who are you?"

"The guardian of this place."  
The drow male nodded and stood up.  
"Then prove it," Out of his fingers shot a thin bolt of lightning. It hit her in the stomach, and then rebound back, grazing his cheek lightly. A stone column behind him crumbled.

When he looked back at her, her face was clear with rage. "Big. Mistake." She flew at him with an almost inhuman speed. She slipped the spear's staff behind his legs and flipped him over. Again he tried to throw a fire ball at her --one that would explode on impact-- and it blew up in her face but she remained unmarked. She stuck her spear at his throat.  
"Enough," She said calmly, but the rage was blanketed barely, "Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you find your friend."

The blue haired drow nodded, stumbled to his feet and ran off for the river, Cheris following him at a fast walk.

Her rage had subsided when she knelt next to Varg to assume her position at cooling the sleeping prince.  
"His fever is breaking," Varg added softly, sensing the after effects of rage.  
"We have another guest. Don't be so keen on keeping your heart set on the red head. It is her friend I found..."

A small wave of dissappointment fell over Varg as he stood up,"I brought my honor guard. They are camping outside the city. I will see you in the morning."

Cheris only nodded and did not look at him as he left.

---------------

Aval coughed raggedly. He held a cloth over his mouth and wiped away the emerald blood coming from his lungs. Already he was feeling the sickness fester inside of him as the Maggotkin slowly destroyed his forest and heart. Isha stood over him, trying to heal him. Aval knew his fate, and he had to stop his forest from being killed.

"Isha, go back to Cian... They await your news... I will follow when I can.." Aval began to cough and hack again.

The elf goddess shook her head,"I won't go until you will. I cannot leave you, Aval. Not in this state." A sigh came from Aval as he stood up. His hair began to grow black and brown strands and his face a slight stubble.  
"All right, let's go."

----------------

**End of Chapter 3**


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter 4**

**Just an update, making this a ten chapter fan fiction. Also part one of a Two-part fiction! Hee!**

**Also, I apologize for the short chapter. I will make up for it in Chapter 5, which will be the halfway point and almost the longest chapter.**

**-------------------------------------------**

The day was cool and there was a small breeze flitting through the field where a large encampment was. An old god leaned on a young goddess as they stood at the front of the camp. Cheris ran out of the city ruins leaping over fallen columns like a gazelle to meet the two, Varg following close behind her.

Aval looked no better when they had arrived. His hair becoming brown instead of moon-white. Cheris stood by him, holding him up as Isha sat on the grass with a small doe. Aval coughed again, wiping emerald green blood from his lips. Cheris hugs him tightly like a daughter.

"They are called 'Maggotkin'. And they are slowly destroying Avalbane. As you all know by now," Aval managed to say,"And you all should train yourselfs. They strike you or break your skin, you are as good as dead. They have almost defied the power of the Goddess Isha and her healings... Being champions of Morrigan you all are skilled warriors. But be wary, these are unlike any enemies you will EVER encounter."

Varg gives a gruff sound before standing up and speaking in his greater, bellowing voice. "It is for this reason, that I will be giving out the order to use your Blessed Marks, whatever they may be or do. You will be supportive of each other... because unity is a hammer that can't be stopped!" Varg raises his spear, letting out a stirring howl. His honorguard return the gesture. The honorguard gives a Gaelic warcry after the howl, translating to "Blood and Carrion to quench Her talons and spear!"

"There are exactly seven of them. Do not underestimate their numbers. Isha has sent a messenger to Kylroth Troll-King for aid in the upcoming battle," Aval doubles over, coughing violently. Cheris supports him, whispering ancient words not even Varg would know to him. He nods slowly.  
"May Gaia help us all." Aval said softly to her.

Varg seems... stern. He's got the war-face going on, and when he looks to Aval to try and help him, the stare is piercing, and not at all like his normal and cheery demeanor. "May Morrigan lend you strength, Great Father." he murmurs in Old Norse, repeated again in Gaelic. With this, he walks off, motioning for his men to follow, muttering to himself... he needs a plan, and he's lacking in this.

"It may not just be the Morrigan whom I need strength from, Grandson," Aval said softly as if speaking to himself. He looked down in almost defeat.  
"Wait, Varg." Cheris speaks loudly and clearly,"The training will be different, you know that."  
Varg stops dead in his tracks before making an about turn to face Cheris. "I know... and I need a plan. I need help... the old ways won't work." He can't stop twisting his spear-butt in the ground.

"Wait for the troll-king to come with his reinforcements. Ask Nergal what he would suggest?" Cheris's calm voice seems to bring up a few more animals. The Doe in Isha's lap perks up and a rabbit or two come out of hiding. Even a bear lumbering around stops by and sits beside her. Varg gives a mild grunt. Not a malicious one... but he doesn't seem pleased, either. Patience was never his strong suit.  
Cheris leaves the bear to be Aval's crutch as Cheris stepped up to Varg. She places a hand on his arm in a soothing gesture, looking into his eyes,"Go to Nergal while we wait. I will train your honorguard until you return... Please."

"Yes, Riss. I'll speak with Nergal on the matter... I'm sure his guidance will be crucial." Varg bears the look of a desperate general. He's outclassed, outplanned, and outgunned... and the look on his face screams it. He sees a pyrrhic victory at best, in this battle.  
Cheris places another hand on his rough cheek,"Calm yourself. There has not been a battle yet where you have not lost." She kisses his lips lightly, almost like a caress of a feather. Varg softens visibly, that kiss must of soothed his nerves greatly. "Even the greatest fall, but you're right." He leans his head inward slightly, the braids falling with it. She rests her forhead against his and closes her eyes. "He could be our only hope. Go." SHe opens them and pulls away from him.

Varg nods once, he doesn't need to be told again, before making his way to the Portal while shouting "Listen to the Lady!" once, to his guard. A soft sigh is heard from Isha as she stands walking to Aval,"Let us move inside the ruins, Grandfather Aval. You should meet Nuada." As they walk into the ruins, Aval chuckles.  
"I know Balor's son well enough. What he has against the humans is really deeper than any hate I have seen..."

As the two deities leave the encampment, Cheris takes up her spear now looking at each of them long and hard.  
"All of you. Come at me at once and I will show you what it means to fight the Maggotkin."

------------------------------

Stepping into the Portal... Varg makes his way to Nergal's Garden. "Nergal! I hate to bother you again... but we need your help."

Nergal's form has become serious instead of a bubbling green mass. He now resembles his son, Sammael with the same eyes but his large head covered with tentacles. His body is covered with a sort of robe made of putrid muck, a sick green bubbling sinisterly.  
"I know Varg. Why else would you visit me, eh? It is solemn that I get visitors just for my company."

Varg gives a simple nod to the large, putrid god... while pinching his nose.  
"I don't mean to offend, Plague-Father... however, we need your guidance on how to crush the Maggotkin."

Nergal sighs, staring at Varg sadly,"Give them a forceful taste of their own medicine. At least try. I've been working on a counter-disease, stronger than the one they have immunized in their bodies." He waves Varg over to the large cauldron,"Tell your warriors to dip their weapons in this."

"Wouldn't fire work just as well?" He takes a careful step towards the cauldron. Nergal shook his mosntrous head,"No. Not unless you want to kill them AND the forest."  
Nergal shook his monstrous head,"No. Not unless you want to kill them AND the forest."  
"Good point. This is why you're the god, and I'm not." Varg looks about, sighing. "I'm going to need a smaller cauldron, or a bigger portal."  
Nergal laughs again,"Haha, m'boy, you're not taking the cauldron. I knew I planned for this." He beckons a creature forward, a smaller being with three faces and a jutting spine slinks forward.  
"Sekzkich has made weapons for your warriors already. Forgive me lad. My mind escapes me." He pats the creature on the head and it slinks forward, towards Varg and bows. The creature makes screeching noise with all three of it's faces.  
"She tells you to follow her. My daughter is a fine crafter of weapons. They will not fail your Guard."

Sekzkich makes a few more inaudible shrieks to 'her' father.  
"Please dear, speak in the new tongues so he can understand you."

The creature sighs softly, then speaks from one of her faces,"Vaaarg... F-foolloww." She hisses softly, her speech almost pained.  
Varg nods his acknowledgment, then speaks up. "Thank you, Seksskicsch." Obviously he butchers the name.

Sekzkich beckons him to follow her across the rotting Gardens to the stores of weapons fit for his small army. "Thhh-The Gaaahrdz wuh-will ffiiiiight wuh-w-well...."  
Varg nods. "They will... and I welcome you to watch." He's wary not to step in any puddles. The creature shakes her head, all eyes closed,"Nooo... Sekkkkk-zhuh-kitch iz nooot perrrmitted..... Sh-shee knows haow wuh-well her weapons work..."

Varg nods again, but can't help but let out a stifled chuckle. She opens her eyes, all nine of them glaring red angry sockets at him,"DO NOT LAUGH AT HER. SHE WILL DESTROY YOU." She screams at him then shrinks back. She points to the large weapons and the small portal shimmering beside them. Varg blinks, taking pause for a few moments, noting this creature could cause a Banshee to flee with her shriekings.. Once the intimidation wears off, he grabs the weapons first, and sends them through the portal, followed by himself. "Thank you, Sekzkich!"

----------------------------------------------------

As the young elf Prince waited for Cheris and Varg to return, he busied himself by stretching by the river. He was aware of the two drow elves nearby. The red head, Chath'Anon had stretched her lovely body over the scrawny blue-haired male, kissing him and murmuring to him in their own language. He could not stifle the grunt of disgust. She looked up and glared with bright orange eyes.  
"Jealous, milk-skin?" She sneered at him.

"Jealous? Hardly. I was told that drow women were in words 'mistresses' of their men, but I did not think it would be true." Nuada retorts back at her. Chath gets up angrily and slides her hands along her thighs. Almost thinking it a trick of the light, Nuada sees two identical markings appear slowly, shaping into two elaborate short swords.

"Drow women do not take insults lightly. Come now, White-Prince, show me how the Sons of the Earth duel." Chath'Anon pulled the two blades right off her skin, tossing him one. He catches it easily and takes a stance just as she rushes forward quickly, bringing a bear foot into his chest. Stumbling back, Nuada attempts to breath as she swings her blade at him. He barely blocks it in time.

"Don't just take the hits, throw them back at her," A voice says sternly. Without thinking Nuada pushes Chath back awars, then hooks his foot behind her ankle to trip her down. Unlike him, she does not fall easy. Instead she rolls on the ground, flipping backwards. She glowers at Nuada and swings again, hitting him with full force. He finally falls back against a wall.

"Your footing is terrible." The voice said again. Enraged, Nuada ducks just as Chath swings again, twirling behind her. She moves fast, spinning around and parrying his oncoming blow.  
There battle went on, the voice continuing to lecture Nuada at every single fault he made.

When he was finally pinned to the white stones did he see the source of the voice. He glared at Cheris as she slipped down from her spot on the crumbling wall.  
"You technique and form is terrible. Are you sure you're the son of Balor?"

Chath leaned forward, placing both hands on the sides of Nuada's face, making sure he would not get up.  
"Mmm, I can help... Tell me, do you white elves taste like cream..?" She leans forward almost licking his earlobe. Before her tongue touches his skin he pushes her off angrily. Ignoring her completely now he stalks over to Cheris.

"If you know my faults then why not teach me how to fight better?" He demanded. She was leaning on her spear calmly.  
"No," she said simply.  
"And why not?"

Cheris sighed, staring him in his golden eyes,"Because, Prince," she began,"I don't believe you will ever live up to your word. I only train those who wish to keep peace, not destroy it. I've trained warriors who wanted to fight for balance. Not the entire annihilation of a race."

Nuada didn't answer her nor did he return her gaze now.  
"I am sorry, Nuada. I will not teach you."

Cheris took up her spear and left the ruins quickly to return to the guard settled outside of the ruins. She did not look back at Nuada but could feel his contempt and anger rising.  
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**End Of Chapter 4**


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